QUE(E)RYING FOOD

There I was, wandering the world that I used to call the ethernet, and now think of as something kind of vaguely related to life, and I discovered this site: Jonathan Ned Katz on Queer Food Chronologies. How did this discovery occur? Frank Bruni posted about it, someone I have met, who once upon a time was NY Times restaurant reviewer -- and now writes on higher education -- and is a (somewhat conservative in my view) gay man.

In any case, I immediately emailed the site to myself in order to peruse it at length and write about it here. As I did so, I thought about my earlier entries in the "que(e)rying food" category of this blog, and also about a "cookbook" I think I might still own that somehow involved honey, lesbians, and recipes. Then, I went to Amazon, and wandered around a bit. No, I did not find the book I had vaguely in mind. Yes, there is a substantial literature on gender and food these days, some of which addresses the notion of "lesbians" and food.

In any case, a few reflections on Katz's ongoing project (I say ongoing because he asks that folks email him if they have input to the project and as soon as you look at it you will have things to write to him about):

Who is Katz? Perhaps obviously, Katz is a historian of sexuality who has been writing since the 1970s. Indeed, his Gay American History sits on my bookshelf and will always do so because its mere existence taught me an enormous amount in the 1970s and still does on occasion when I re-read portions of it. I can still recall my feelings when I (a) first sighted the large red paperback and asked myself how there could possibly be that many pages of material for a documentary source on gay American history. Imagine my surprise. I can also still recall (b) my feelings on reading the punishments associated with lesbian or gay activities (wink wink) in pre-colonial and colonial America. The shivers that went up my spine were shivers of disgust and fear. Since the 1970s, Katz has written numerous books and articles, and done much more as independent scholar and generally important public intellectual on LGBTQ history -- including the influential The Invention of Heterosexuality. So, someone with credentials in -- indeed a founder of what we think of now as LGBTQ Studies.

And, in some senses the not in that so very many of the documents included in that early work were negative inspired my own thinking and work to look for positive historical remnants -- and to create them for tomorrow through my own life.

What does Katz have to say so far about Queer Food and Foodies? Well, what he has posted is, as he notes and I noted above, a work in progress, with a fairly thin set of materials linking food and queerness. It starts with Melville and the date 1849 (which is wonderful), mentions without commentary Alice B Toklas's "cookbook" and . . . stops with May 19, 2017 and the "television premiere" of a documentary on James Beard, "The first foodie." The chronology is followed by the beginnings of a list of persons and things (today, May 11, 2017, this includes around 20 items, including "swish steak"). This is an exciting start on what could be a huge undertaking and I wish Katz well on it. IN fact, I hope he becomes obsessed and really pushes it forward or somehow (perhaps a bit through this blog entry) finds the help to push it forward.

Other resources?

My own tidbits from Cooking with Ideas can all be found here, with some more directly related to queer/lesbian matters than others. Among the things you will discover if you are even the teensy teensy-est diligent are some websites and articles on lesbians and food. (Hint, Mr. Katz?) Because I am not patient this morning and, indeed, have a bit of a headache, I will leave it at that and hope that Katz -- or you -- can find more and add them in the comments.

(Thanks again to smbmarketingguide.com for this image.) Last time I focused on the links between murder mysteries and food in the blogosphere. Thought I would remind us we live in a land of politics, feminism, and queer (lesbian) topics as well. Here are a few sites to check out on each of these:

Politics and Food: Yep, still matters. Maybe even more after the results in Massachusetts and the ongoing health care debacle. (Yes, health care is about food.) Keep an eye out on Marion Nestle's blog, Food Politics to know what is what. Really, It's important. Not sure who she is? Click here. And for more, check out this "Top 10" list of food and politics sites. Both Nestle's blog and one of my humorous faves (which has a serious side to it), Obamafoodrama appear on the list, but there are 8 more we should all know about.

Feminism and Food: Yes, all those political sites I just cited (watch that homonym attack) should attend to feminism. After all, even idiots know that women are now more than 50% of the work force in the US. But, still, given realities of life, it is crucial to keep this concern for women's lives out there when food and water access are crucial for women globally. Not sure the food crisis globally is about women? Try clicking here. Or try this article. Or this one. And if you think this is unrelated, say, to hiv./AIDS. try this pdf (though it is from 2006): programs.ifpri.org/renewal/pdf/icadtoronto.pdf.

Not to mention a new fave: a site which thinks harpyness is good. Try it. Release your inner harpy.

Lesbian/Queer Matters (and Food?): For some silliness, check out this video of how to make a lesbian joy cocktail. And no, this is NOT a joke. (Might it refer to the island of Lesbos? NO clue.) And here is a great lgbtq manners commentary. What does it mean that all North American lesbians know about the potluck jokes?

More seriously, try here for lesbian politics or here for lgbtq politics. (NOT the same, as I hope you know.) And here for material on lesbians in the news.

Some day it will be Le Bec Fin -- I walked by but did not really feel well enough to splurge that much. It was one of several places where I have seen rabbit confit on the menu lately. I must try it -- I love rabbit and confit, well, confit. And, I did muse for 2 minutes over Eric Ripert's place in Philly. Same rationale. Same savings! But meanwhile, there is reality. And some of it is very very good. Here are a few things I did in Philly recently at a conference which were terrifically tasty. Beyond a cheesesteak in my hotel (gasp) which turned out to be pretty good actually (I was persuaded into it by the Amoroso roll) and some chicken soup, what did I eat? where did I eat?

First a total side note: For those who care, and I do, neither of these places is quite in the Gayborhood, but near enough for an easy walk. And filled with lovely food. I
have no idea if it is Philly, the success of gay consumerism and
neoliberalism, good politics or Where magazine (for those who hotel as much as I do -- you know, that magazine we all depend on for a map and some ideas), but the magazine had a
pull out section on the gayborhood -- and the 'hood itself has little rainbow
flags where other areas might say (for example), antique row. In the gayborhood itself there are several places (many?) to eat as well. Next time. Meanwhile, there is always the uber-friendly, quite historically crucial, and easily accessible Giovanni's Room; their other virtual site is called queerbooks. They have, by the way, a dandy mystery section.

But, back to the main point: food.

El Vez was a place I went into a bit out of desperation. I was tired, and I needed to eat and I did not want to over indulge because I had a rough tummy. It was dandy. Totally dandy. Not too much food, an okay ambience, and I would return. And I love their tag line: Mexican-American meets East L.A. in a Tijuana Taxi." I had piri pork tacos -- aka pulled pork tacos, with pickled onions, avocado, a bit of lime and cilantro, etcetera. They were small, and tasty and well plated. I had them with a ginger ale (tummy, remember?) and I was very happy when I left. The second ginger ale (while unnecessary) was free. Another day, I might have tried other things on the menu. For a gazillion yelp reviews, click here.

Where is it? 121 13th Street. Try it. It has a campy-ness to it I loved.

Naked Chocolate Cafe -- I discovered this in a magazine in my hotel and walked by, thinking I would go to an earlier discovery instead, Max Brenner. (I did love that when I visited it last Philly trip.) But, I was persuaded to try this place. And I am glad I did. They do not (unlike the bald man's joint, Max Brenner's) serve real lunches, so I did make this trip to try them separately. What did I have? What the counter person suggested: a European style (which means very thick, served with whipped cream on the side) petite Aztec (which means as I recall a dark chocolate with cardamon and a few other spices). It came in a smallish espresso like cup. And it was both terrific and terrifically filling. (I will never ever ever be able to consume anything other than this smallest size.) I made a mess because I was a little unsure about what to do with the whipped cream which did sort of melt a bit and get runny. But: this was great. Did I say I liked it? I did. And I bought some chocolates, pretending I was going to give them away. I might. But I have already eaten a variety of them and . . . . They have several not so wonderful websites, here and (if you want to order candy) here. For zillions of yelp reviews, try here. In addition to the fun chocolate, I met a small child who was not afraid of strangers. How unusual. How nice for me.

They also serve/sell desserts. They were too much for me at the time -- but are a great excuse for a return visit.

Where are they? Here: 1317 Walnut Street Philadelphia, PA19107.

So, all in all, while I was under the weather -- and I do not mean the unusual and heavy snow -- I did have some moments of getting those small bits of protein in that were fun.

Orland Outland writes outlandish seeming murder mysteries. They are not really outlandish -- I just wanted to do the play on his name! Anyway, one of the characters, Doan, is a guy (not a drag queen, not an mtf, just a gay guy) wears dresses. So, for some of you out there is mainland USA, perhaps a little out there. Anyway, I was pawing through the shelves desperate for a murder mystery and re-read this one: Death Wore the Emperor's New Clothes. Want to know what else he wrote? Click here. I suggest this because this particular gay author is sort of hard to find on the web. Odd, eh? He has written fiction and nonfiction, and seems to have an odd name -- and then, voila, there are others with that name?

One reason I like these mysteries is because of the name "BInky," here a Connecticut (recovering from) woman. My father's nickname was Binky. Weird. The other reason is because Binky's friend, Doan, is a shopaholic who buys kitchen stuff. So, the start of this mystery goes like this: "Doan moved through Williams Sonoma with the practiced air of a professoional chef. He glided past the big-ticket items, the best of which he'd already acquired -- the copper pots and pans from france, the knives from Germany, the Mixmaster -- and lingered over the little items, another one of which always seemed to be needed to put the finishing touches on his kitchen. He admired the Swiss melon ballers, the silver tea infuser. . . 'Ooh!' he said out loud, admiring a platinum vegetable peeler." (p. 1).

Yes, a platininum vegetable peeler. Silly, over the top, and critical -- just like the book, which features a wealthy (very) out gay man who does good with his money and has been out all along, a pair of friends and their partners (one of the pairs is heterosexual and the other gay men. . . hmmm, no lesbians?), some not-so-subtle trashing of Rupert Murdoch under a different name, a bit of critique of infomercial self-help culture, a soupcon of computer hacking, some fashion forward fascination, and related politics all tied together in a big, fun, campy (though Outland himself does not like camp and . . . ) murder mystery. Set in NYC, there are also some snide and not-so-snide comparisons between the Big Apple and the city with the Golden Gate.

All in all a romp with food just a tiny bit of a side dish to the real dishing. . . .

For a review elsewhere, click here. And want to check out a bit of a book on gay murder mysteries? Click here. The book even outs the people on whom some characters are based. . . Maybe I better buy it!

In my imagination, those old pulps always had gay victims. We knew we'd made it when some of the victims were straight. Then, I thought, well, all the murderers are gay; we're back to homophobia-land. Remember all that stupid stuff about John Wayne Gacy? While I do not have the sequence anywhere near right, and if there is a sequence at all I would undoubtedly state it in overly-simplistic ways, I do know this: I like it when the detective is lesbian, gay or. . . queer. Yep, there's a whole genre, including Ellen Hart and others who have crossed over into supermarkets -- and folks like Patricia Cornwell who, gasp, . . . . well, you know. . . includes a character? All those animals in Rita Mae Brown's "Sneaky Pie Brown" series -- well, they seem to show no clue at all that the author's fame arose in part from her lesbian classic, Rubyfruit Jungle. Now, the lesbian mystery genre includes noir and cozy, and the genre has been the mainstay of some lesbian presses established in the 1970s.

So, what does this have to do with Amuse Bouche by Anthony Bidulka? The sleuth is a gay man, single, and the mystery includes gay (and lesbian) characters. While not as food oriented as its title might imply, it's a well written and interesting book, with a plot that kept me reading and writing that moved along, and another hook for me: it is written by a Canadian -- and set above the 49th. In particular, Bidulka lives in Saskatoon and the novel is set there. While (as already said) food does not play a central role in the mystery -- or the novel -- there is a humorous moment when the sleuth (Russell Quant) learns what an amuse bouche is. (Not sure? Click here.) Since the plot jumps between Saskatoon and various locales in France, and the cast of characters includes people representing a variety of class backgrounds (with some supposedly high-falutin' rich types), foodie references serve as identifiers here and there. There is about as much techie start up company stuff as atmosphere, setting and plot device as there is foodie, but not annoyingly so. All in all, Amuse Bouche is much better than a bad mystery with loads of foodie things, including recipes. Put another way, while it was the title that got me to buy it, it was much much more that kept me reading. While occasionally a bit arch, Quant (the sleuth) is well characterized as are most others. And the mystery is both poignant, relevant, and a bit goofy. For all you marriage-equality typed, it doesn't spoil the mystery to say you might find this worth a gander. I can't say more without spoiling the plot, so, I say, read it.

As a side note, this is the first of a series. Bidulka, I learned via the web, won a Lamdba for his 2004 book entitled Flight of Aquavit (and has at least one other with a food note in the title -- Tapas on the Ramblas).

So, watch right here for reviews of a whole raft of books I have read lately. And thanks to etc.usf.edu for the picture of, yes, you got it, a raft, though not a raft of books. Here are some books for which reviews are coming up in the next little while:

Anthony Bidulka'sAmuse Bouche (and yes, there is a bit of food and murder in this, subtitled A Russell Quant Mystery). It is the first in a series and set in Saskatoon (above the 49th).

Nicole Mones'The Last Chinese Chef, which is not at all a mystery but definitely a novel and definitely foodie oriented

Catching Fire by Richard Wrangham --the only non-fiction entry in this list -- which includes a full blown explanation for the origin of gender-based division of labor (and he definitely does not does not agree with Claude Levi-Strauss). For a list of things by Wrangham, try here -- and for a Q and A with him, here. Yes, the latter is from Scientific American. And, unrelatedly, totally unrelatedly, it seems Levi-Strauss, according to the web, is alive. At 100. Hmmmm.

I have not posted in some categories lately, so I am using my procrastination habit to catch up a bit -- on feminism and food, on queer/lgbt topics, on politics and food (aka sublimation nation).

Feminism and Food: A big topic. When wandering the web, too much of this seems to be about eating disorders. What about upbeat, wonderful, non-depressing topics linking feminism and food. Remember, feminism is not just about what is wrong with the world. It is also about how we are going to make it right. So, I came across a few sites to visit. The first is feminist.com which, among other things, has updates from the Women's Media Center. I loved the one entitled why Obama needs a Frances Perkins by his side. Who knew people actually knew who Frances Perkins' was. Do you? No? You should. Click here. Yes, feminist.com has pieces on eating disorders. They're important. But they are not the only link between feminism and food.

But really. LGBT/QUEER and Food? That makes no sense at all. Let me remind you that David Mehnert has written on what queer food is. And, there is even a thing called "Queer Food for Love." Who knew? Click here and you will. Or here, where the very blog called Queer Food For Love, from, in the land of literal location, not surprisingly, San Francisco, is located in the virtual geography of the blogosphere.

Politics and food -- well that's something a little more expected. Indeed, sometimes it seems like all food is these days is politics -- the power of the marketplace, the decisions of governments, the actions of nation-states (and the impact of their consolidation in, for example, the European Union). I ate raw goat milk cheese yesterday I got from a lovely cheese shop near the Rochester Public Market. (The Market, by the way, moved its virtual location. Who knew?) Anyway, for 7 priorities for food politics in the age of Obama (how fast he became an entire age), click here. For a newish blog by political policy wonks in DC, try here. And expect close to no politics, policy or wonky-ness.

I like this book. I did not expect to. Hey -- look at it's title. "Take This Bread" just about shouts Christianity. It shouts death of Jesus, eat this in remembrance of me-ism. A whole set of ritual practices that folks killed each other over for centuries and . . . well, for me, bring to mind grape juice in shot glasses, cubes of wonder bread and yes, the nostalgia of belief. I expected to find this book an off-puttingly religious tome, despite its marshaling of the word spiritual in its subtitle (implicitly, then, not religious?). Yes, this is a book about a conversion to Christianity and the eating of bread. In fact, it is a bit magical how author Sara Miles wanders into a church, eats the bread of communion, and lo and behold, discovers herself and then transforms herself. Actually, according to the memoir, she discovers not only herself (as in the self-indulgent narcissism of some of us), but God and the rest of humanity. Very Victor Turner-esque, in the transformation of the individual is the transformation of community and vice versa. Very William James-ish, the conversion is tantalizingly sudden -- and lengthy in its process -- simultaneously. (In this regard, see The Varieties of Religious Experience.) Very coming out story-ish if that's the form of lesbian tale that derives from the conversion narrative, and is here returned to its origins in falling in love with God. (See Michael Warner) Her humanitarian concern -- and her smarts -- are, not actually, anything new. Miles had already led an engaged life as a writer and activist in, say, Nicaragua. What is new, for her, is an allegiance to Church. What, she asks, is this non-theistic lesbian doing finding god in a church called St. Gregory's in San Francisco. And, she asks, how does their inclusive (if a bit aesthetically oriented and class based) liturgy lead to the politics of food distribution and the establishment of food banks where (gasp) no one has to show identification. The answer: God wants to feed people. He (she? it?) wants Sara to feed people. What is communion? the eucharist? Feeding people. What is an inclusive liturgy? A food bank. No, she is not "merely" a do gooder. (So do not think justification by works versus justification by faith here.) She's a politicized mystic. And I discovered her only after the book went into paperback. Hmmm.

Part of what I like about the book is the representation of her home life -- where the stress of change is both supported and worrisome (for her partner and her daughter). Somehow they work it out, and not everyone has to be converted to the same mission. Part of what I like about the book is the combination of naivete and smarts that the protagonist (Sara's representation of Sara) provides. And part of it is, I am persuaded. Yep. the point of it all is to invite even those one most disdains to the table. (Or is it to the party?) Sometimes, that is oneself. Always, it is oneself, as one invites (and fails to invite) others. Of course, as a lesbian, Sara is not always invited to the table; and she brings that with her along on this journey to figure out what inclusion might really mean. She brings as well the notion that we might need another table entirely -- to make one ourselves, to invite ourselves, to discover it all in the mouthful of bread. I have moments of hoping that this could be attributed to the rather oddball form of radical education she experienced in her youth. Oh for the days of deeply radical educational experiments. Maybe that will be her next project. Or yours.

St Gregory's is actualy St. Gregory of Nyssa Episcopal Church in San Francisco. It has an intriguing history of mainstreamish outsiderishness. Fopr more on the church, here's their website. For more on teh Food Pantry, and even todonate, click here.

A while back, I purchased Apples to Oysters: A Food Lover's Tour of Canadian Farms by Margaret Webb. I bought it at a great bookstore I was introduced to by my favorite Canadian, Octopus Books, in Ottawa. And everything I recognized in the book about Canada I know as a result of her. And I am grateful.

The read was wonderful. Not only is it a book about food (of course, I love that), and Canada (I love that), but it is, quite matter-of-factly, a book by a lesbian. (Or at least someone in a same gender partnership.) When did we get so matter of fact, I thought, as I read along about the author and her partner, Nancy? How wonderful. And then I thought: ok, this is one big difference between the US and Canada; they have a clue that this is a human rights issue and so even though they have their fair share of bigots, well, it is just different. Maybe it's catching?

The book is also wonderful for other reasons,including the smooth and articulate writing, and the wealth of juxtapositions. Scallop farming, I have to say, surprised me. Flax -- I knew about its role in bowel regularity and its healthy features, but I did not know that I may know this in part because I am influenced by Albertans who live right next to Saskletchewan where the transformation of flax to a marketable health food is saving some farmers. Canada is, it turns out, the leading producer of flax -- and was once (and apparently not any more) disproportionately constipated. Who knew? I did know PEI (aka Prince Edward Island) mussels were a big deal, but the oysters (not really my thing), well, hmmm. Famously, it turns out, Colville Bay oysters. And at they are most famously available at Catch in Calgary? (I have a vague memory of having been there once upon a time,many years ago.) I knew that the mere mention of "Alberta beef" seems to make some people drool, but I did not know how at risk the farmers and ranchers are, and how what the phrase means may be being saved by those who actually grass feed cattle in the southern foothills. I have, indeed, been tempted by the restaurant where Webb finds dandy Alberta beef -- again in Calgary -- River Cafe. I will go there before I die. I knew that Sasketchewan is cold and Manitoba land locked, but not about pork in the latter or the sudden shout of blue that comes with the brief blooming of enormous flax fields in the former. And I know the taste of ice wine and was pleased for the paragraph about the decision that led to the creation of Henry of Pelham's Catherine Brut Rose (a sparkling wine from the Niagara region). And the cheeses, oh the cheeses. Yes, I have been to the market in Montreal and bought the cheeses. (Not to mention Kensington market in Toronto and . . . ) Descriptions of Yukon gold from the Yukon Territory were a reminder that sometimes a name is more than just an advertising gimick, though marketing is, indeed, key. Yes, I mean Yukon Gold potatoes. And depictions of hte effort to grow food well north of where it strikes me as even reasonable to try were inspiring.

Just as I learned loads of wonderful things in this book about those who farm (and the author is a product of several generations of Ontario farmers, soon to lose their land and mourning that), I learned an occasional awful thing about industrial agriculture and its human consequences -- or was reminded of awfulnesses I vaguely recognized. Canada, it turns out, ranks well behind the US and Europe in farm support; see pp. 135-136. And there is what the author labels a day that "lives in in some infamy": "when Environment Canada recorded pesticides raining from the sky across the provincial border [from Saskatchewan, the province Webb is discussing in the chapter in which this quotation appears] in the grain-growing belt, in Lethbridge, Alberta." (p. 144). The book, too, mourns the author's father, a victim of what she now suspects is the result of pesticide use, and was a puzzling dementia so a loss even before his death (after an autopsy, it turnedout to be Parkinson's dementia.)

So Apples to Oysters is about both hope and loss. Woven through the farming and interviewing and eating and cooking Webb is offering readers a paean to the local, to the manyness and wonder that is Canada, and a serving of hope that the scourge of industrial agriculture will not demolish all that is beautiful and possible. The horrible realities and sadnesses, the backbreaking work of gardening and farming, and the risks, are never avoided or toned down. The book is a tour of the nation -- every province gets its due. And it is filled with recipes which remember the connection of farm to table. While not unduly romantic, the book is definitely about love.

For most Americans, we know little about the world(s) above the 49th parallel. It is poorly reported here, we fail to learn about it in history classes or current events, and we assume all too often that those worlds are just like the US -- and forget the complex ways our histories (and presents) are entangled. So, we should read this book. For Canadians, too, this will, I suspect, bring the bittersweetness of new knowledge, both sad and hopeful. Only part of that knowledge, of course, is about the many ways worlds are connected across the dark lines on maps.

Read Apples to Oysters. Do.

For another review, click here or here or here. Yes, reviews from across the very nation she tours! And yes, skewed just a little bit toward Alberta. . . And the last one has the best quotation of all: Webb is the Stuart Mclean of Canadian food writing."

Viewers of Top Chef know that there was a lesbian couple in the mix this past season (Season 4): Jen and Zoe. And, they were on the cover of Curve (a magazine subtitled "the best-selling lesbian magazine") in their June 2008 issue. And the cover story is called (double entendre likely intended): "GIrl Chefs on Top" and features an interview with the two contestants. One of the things I liked was that, though asked the same questions, they did not give the same answers -- or joint answers. Having said this, I was not all that big a fan of the duo when they were on the show; I confess to thinking their inclusion a bit of a marketing lark on the part of the show's producers. Who knows. Jen's hair is better in the magazine than it was on the show.

Most crucially, the article is followed by another with a foodie/chef focus: "cat's got her tongue" by Colleen M. Lee about "the reserved lesbian Iron Chef" Cat Cora -- described in the article as "the ouzo-slamming Greek girl from Mississippi" who founded Chefs for Humanity. (Cora, by the way, is a 2008 recipient of an HRC award for her work.)

Neither article was shockingly informative -- neither had recipes -- but it was nice to see foodie headlines in Curve. Check it out.